About three years ago, I was having a bad day. A really bad day. I don’t remember why, now, but I do remember that a chain of events led me to meeting the boy who would eventually nearly ruin a year of my life. But of course, at the time, when I was struggling with so much, I thought this boy was my saviour. I thought he was the best thing to happen to me, a beam of sunshine on a cloudy day (Obviously, he’s not. I’ve since fallen for someone who I never thought possible and I’ve learned my capacity to love goes deeper and that distance can work with the right person but that is another story for another post. Just in case Current Boy reads this though, he needs to know he is so much better in every way, shape and form from the previous boy and I simply just love him more. Anyways). He was the indie fraternity boy counterpart to my quirky sorority girl. And I always credited him for being a pick me up on a terrible day.
Example one: I accidentally kissed someone while studying abroad the next semester. Oops. To be fair, the boy in the States was ignoring me and had been since I arrived in Brighton and the boy in Brighton was just so cute in a Ron Weasley sort of way and he spoke another language that I also happen to speak and so when I was unsure of my status I couldn’t help but let (aka dare) this cute boy with an accent kiss me. And let me pass out in his bed. But he called it off which I was fine with because I did have a boy at home. Being a girl, though, I was still slightly (read: very) bitter and on the day that we had officially stopped hooking up secretly after our flatmates went to bed, I got the first “I miss you” text from the boy in the States. And I was thrilled! But, wait. I said he only texts me when my life falls to shit. This was the text that kept me with him, effectively cockblocking me from 1. being with someone I was hella attracted to at first sight, 2. being with someone who actually cared about me and would bend over backwards to prevent from hurting me as best as he could and 3. someone who actually knew what they wanted to do in life and it wasn’t switching from pre-dent to communications (yes, yes, for those of you who haven’t figured this out yet, that boy I dared to kiss me is Current Boy. Two years after we met and we are finally figuring that out. But again, another story for another post).
Obviously Boy in States didn’t last. After sticking by me throughout my entire semester abroad and my summer 8 hours away from him, he ended it the first week of classes and over a text message while we were in the same building and he knew it. So clearly, it did not end well. Actually, I spent the night in my extra-long twin bed with my sorority little, crying as she passed me tissue after tissue. And I cried nearly every day for two weeks. I stopped eating. I was dragged to the One Direction film in an effort to cheer me up (there is a photo of me twerking on the cutout of Harry Styles in the cinema. I regret nothing). The next day after this heinous ending however, I was trying so hard to survive and put on a happy face in my journalism class. Lo and behold, he texts me, trying to justify his reasoning and make himself not seem like the worst human to ever exist. Which he is. We didn’t speak again for a long, long time.
In February, I had bronchitis and a class I hated with He Who Must Not Be Named. If you think a public speaking class is bad, try having public speaking in a class of 25 and one of them is your former boything. Worst. And as I am dying from bronchitis, who should text me asking which speeches he had missed since he never deigned to show up for class? Yep. We hadn’t spoken in 6 months.
So when I graduated in May, I figured I never had to speak to this creature again. I was on to bigger and better things. But of course, I did not get off that easily.
Flashforward to September 2014, when I was under a ton of pressure and stress at my first big girl job. And who should text me the night before I’m set to embark on an 8 hour flight? Satan himself. I would also like to note that it was exactly a year and a week since we had broken up and I had just written a smug blurb about how I had no need for him and how I hadn’t even heard from him and did not care.
In December 2014, I was having issues with Current Boy and Terrible Boy decided to add me on SnapChat and follow me on Twitter. I accepted these requests but did not return the gesture.
In January of this year, I was in Amsterdam, having an intense Whatsapp heart-to-heart with Current Boy and received the following message: “You’re in Amsterdam? We should take a trip like that together someday.” Aca-scuse me, fucker? You have a girlfriend, I hate you and I’m pretty sure we haven’t had a real conversation in like over a year. You do not get to plan a world-travelling adventure with me. I’m pretty sure that’s not socially acceptable.
In March, I was splitting up with Current Boy (don’t ask, it was a sucky time for me especially. Got really into painting and vegetarian food) and I was contacted AGAIN by this loser. In April, I had an airport horrendous incident happen and he texted me the day I flew into New York, telling me that I should visit our school soon as he would love to see me.
And now, as I am struggling to determine what the hell I’m going to do with my life since my student visa is very likely Not Happening Now and when I told Current Boy last night he went AWOL, I received the following message: “What’s up what’s up?” And normally, I respond politely. But today, I blocked his number instead.
I swear, he has a sixth sense about when I’m struggling and chooses to appear. I once saw him as the thing that turned a bad day around 360 degrees. But maybe he’s just always been attuned to my negative energies and he feeds them. He fed them by entering my life when I was at a low point. He fed them by keeping me on his string when I was still at a low point. And now, I think he senses when I’m weak and looks for a way to swoop in and make himself feel powerful or superior. If anyone has read It Came From Beneath the Sink in the Goosebumps series, he is a Grool. He is an evil sponge who lives under my sink, causes bad things to happen and thrives off of negative energies. And since I’m not going to tell him I love him and kill him with kindness in an effort to shrink him, I’m just going to delete him like the spam email he is.
Goodbye, fucker, you have no power over me.